Difficult Questions

Where had the years gone?  When would she have the body she wanted? When would they meet again? When would all the shame and worthlessness that had no origin go away?  Could she have done something differently with her time? If she had to do it all over again, would she even want to do it any differently? What happened to the wonder, the hope and the boldness she used to be?  Why was it all just so hard? When would the humiliation of being not enough for her unfulfilled dreams stop? Why did she feel so less-than without their approval?  Why did her grey roots that began as specks of wisdom she was proud of — when she was in her early thirties become such a burden?  Why did her skin feel so pervious to the very air around her?  She craved protection. She craved a kind of security she was unable to assure herself of.  What was happening? She felt lost and wounded. She wanted to rejuvenate.  To rest. To be vibrant and thriving again.

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